Dodge the question

"You know I hate it when you call me that," is what you say. "It's almost as bad as Lizbeth, or Lizzy, or Lizard-"

Your cousin chuckles, shaking his head at your mini-rampage. He's called you all sorts of nicknames over the years, but the only ones that seem to stick are the ones that sound awful and are totally lame. At least he takes the hint and doesn't say anymore, leaving you to your thoughts.

The two of you drive in relative silence after that, broken only by Harvey fiddling with the radio station. There isn't really anything good, since it's midday on a Tuesday, so he settles on something popular but sucky. You cringe at the sad ones, and half-way sing along to the really bad ones.

In typical childish fashion, you both 'dance' to the techno-pop garbage. Aka: you wiggle around in your seats like idiots and pump your fists in the air. It makes the almost hour-long drive much more tolerable, and occupies you all the way into the parking lot. Harvey's place is on the eighth of twelve stories, but there's an elevator - so you're not procrastinating because of that. No, it's just that it's all finally sinking in now. As soon as you step out that door, you'll be starting a whole new life. New friends, new home, new job eventually.

You thought when you were eighteen would be the last time you had to feel like this, but unfortunately that's not the case. You're a grown-ass adult, shouldn't you be past clinging to the doorway and crying that you don't want to go?

Okay, so you're not being that dramatic, exactly. You're just... sitting there, still buckled into your seat, even when Harvey has removed the key from the ignition and stepped out himself. He's even being so polite as to hold the door open for you.